Landscape architect: Playgrounds reflect parents' fears too much

Children represent the most creative segment of society, yet on playgrounds, they are often confined within dull frameworks that mirror adult fears, points out landscape architect Karin Bachmann. Instead of limited options like ships and ladybugs, more abstract forms could be favored to better spark a child's imagination.
"When we look at children's literature and movies, they're all incredibly adventurous. It's as if we promise them that life is like that. But when a child steps outside, they encounter an environment stripped of excitement," says Bachmann. While the heroes of "The Children of Noisy Village" or "The Secret Society of Souptown" embark on thrilling adventures, a child taken to a typical playground finds that their life, in comparison, is boring and filled with restrictions. "Since it's easier to find excitement in video games than in real life, that's where the child goes," notes the landscape architect.
In a recent conference presentation, Bachmann briefly discussed what playgrounds could look like to be both exciting and developmental for children. She described parents' conflicting expectations for playgrounds: they should be exciting, yet children shouldn't get dirty or scratched. She also gave examples of playgrounds beneficial or detrimental to child development. "Playgrounds should be a place where children can practice for life – taking reasonable risks suited to their age and abilities," she emphasizes.

Beauty in simplicity
According to Bachmann, free play requires that as few restrictions as possible be placed on play itself. "We're not saying that children should be allowed to do anything that comes to mind. It's simply that adults forget that children also have a sense of responsibility and a survival instinct," she argues. While a two-year-old may need constant adult support, a five-year-old can already exercise caution independently – if given the chance to take responsibility.
Therefore, a good playground should, in Bachmann's view, allow children the chance to get scratched, dirty and even fall. Such experiences teach them to make independent decisions and assess their abilities. "The ones who tend to run headfirst into everything are often those who've always had everything done for them. They're not used to the idea that there isn't always a hand to pull them back," she notes.
Currently, playgrounds with their smooth surfaces, rounded edges and plastic animals don't support this concept, according to Bachmann. "Every feature is usually designed for a single activity. If a child tries to do something else with it, they're either obstructed or risk injuring themselves," she describes. For instance, a slide quickly loses its appeal, prompting children to slide down backward or attempt to climb up the side. "They start experimenting, but the equipment doesn't adapt to them as users," she adds.
In her view, a good playground should incorporate more abstract elements. Instead of a ship or ladybug, there could be a small hill, a climbable rock or a tree stump. If a ladder is included, it could simply be a ladder in form, allowing children to hang from it, climb it or crawl underneath. "Opportunities for truly dangerous situations should be removed, but there should still be the chance to fall a little, get scratched or tear a bit of clothing – creating natural environments," lists Bachmann.

Bachmann also observes that playgrounds are often densely packed with elements, but they lack any cohesive flow that encourages play as a whole. First, she argues, children don't necessarily need an overwhelming number of things to play with. Second, she suggests arranging elements in sequences: "When you go onto, say, a trampoline, what do you see next and where do you go from there? What ideas might that spark, allowing the play to inspire the child's imagination each time?"
Growing up to be independent
In Western Europe, post-World War II "junkyard playgrounds" were created where children build their own play structures using available old materials. Under adult supervision, they can even try activities like woodworking and building campfires. However, adults in junkyard playgrounds only intervene when necessary to supervise activities or resolve conflicts, allowing children's play to be largely undisturbed. In Estonia, such playgrounds have been trialed in Tartu. "Junkyard playgrounds would be ideal, but not every playground can be like this," acknowledges Karin Bachmann.
Nonetheless, Bachmann believes some principles from junkyard playgrounds could be adopted in standard playgrounds. "There should always be loose parts that children can move around and use to build their own play structures," she suggests. Additionally, children should be able to distance themselves from adults within reason, so they aren't always within earshot or under constant watch. "They're still near adults but can understand that, in certain moments, they are responsible for themselves," describes the landscape architect. Finally, each child should find age-appropriate challenges on the playground to help them build confidence.
Bachmann emphasizes a broader issue of fostering children's independence: the sooner a child learns to navigate and handle urban spaces on their own, the better. "At sixteen, suddenly a lot is expected of you. Until then, you've been driven to school, but now you're supposed to move independently, know the city, understand where you are and read your environment. It doesn't work that way. You have to grow into that space gradually," she explains.

Change should start in kindergarten
The landscape architect notes that changing the current approach to playground design is challenging. Manufacturers face strict regulations and city governments are hesitant to make changes due to parents' quick complaints. "Today's young parents were the first generation raised in secure new developments, so they're the ones asking for thoroughly padded spaces. Clothes mustn't get dirty or wet and children shouldn't get scratched – it's absurd. How else are children supposed to learn?" Bachmann remarks.
The landscape architecture firm Kino Maastikuarhitektid has designed Uus-Veerenni Park and Vahepark in Tallinn, where they incorporated existing old materials into play structures. "These materials are naturally angular and rough. Children love climbing there," she describes. There, children can't fall from three meters, but the rock piles and small hills offer gradual opportunities to climb up and to the side. According to Bachmann, this makes these parks accessible to children of varying physical abilities and sizes.

"It's also important for children of different ages to see different things in a playground," she continues. For this reason, parents shouldn't assist their children by lifting them onto high slides or other structures they can't yet reach on their own. "If they're not able to climb up themselves, then it's simply too early. They need to 'grow into' the playground's possibilities," Bachmann explains. For a younger child, even a 30-centimeter-high rock presents a fitting climbing challenge, and once that's conquered, they can move on to tackle larger obstacles.
According to Bachmann, a shift in mindset should start as early as kindergarten. There, children should have the opportunity to play with soil, which is not only enjoyable but also beneficial for their health. Exposure to soil can indirectly strengthen their health by promoting a more diverse gut microbiome.
Children should also learn to use tools independently and gain basic survival skills in nature. "I read about a survey where children were shown a picture of a knife and asked what it was. Most said it was a weapon, not a tool. This suggests they've never had the chance to use it for something like whittling a stick or slicing bread. It's a warning sign when things are learned only from movies, creating a very skewed view of the world. Where else do you see someone knifing another person?" Bachmann reflects.

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Editor: Marcus Turovski